


Make This Stop (Destiel/SPN Oneshot Series)

by cybergirl614



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alcoholic John, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Castiel and Mental Health Issues, Confrontation, Dean takes a stand, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot Series, definitely some angst, first oneshot is fluffy, second oneshot includes:, than the first, the second oneshot is much heavier, unapologeticaly feelsy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:57:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5317856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiel and SPN Oneshot Series</p><p>first episode/fic summary:</p><p>Cas thought he had told Dean what he needed to know, thought he'd been getting better, but the first major panic attack he has in months, Dean is right there for.  All he could do is hope Dean wouldn't notice, but...that just wasn't how it would go down, was it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make This Stop

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I decided to write about a panic attack. Dunno why it’s been quite a while since I’ve had one. I guess it’s just coz I’ve been feeling weird and like I’ve been putting my needs on the people around me lately. I guess I need to write something about that. Anyways, this episode is normal life/young adult AU.

Dean had been sitting, watching Cas' attack for a while, respecting Cas' decline when he offered help. 

“Idea,” Dean said, taking Cas’ hands gently in his.

“Wh-what?” Castiel struggled out the word from between gritted teeth. He was shaking all over, trying to still his limbs. He had been trying to unsuccessfully for the better part of 15 minutes, trying not to run from his boyfriend, trying not to scream, trying not to breathe, but also trying not to hyperventilate, but it was all an uphill battle. His body was so tense he couldn’t not shake, couldn’t not clench with every pore in his body oozing the mounting dread and panic that came from nowhere and everywhere, inside and out at once. There was nothing wrong, he insisted to himself mentally, but the realization did nothing to help him. There is nothing wrong, he insisted again, the emotion precipitating with the repeated appreciation of just how unreasoning and how out-of-control he was.

“Can I hold you?” Dean whispered, rubbing Cas’ arm.

Cas nodded weakly, squeezing his eyes shut while Dean enveloped him, sitting down beside him as he wrapped his boyfriend in his arms, pulling him in against his cheek.

No matter what Dean or he himself did, it kept eating through him. It kept slowly tearing him apart, but he could feel Dean around him, rubbing his back, trying to help, however meager it was. As much as he wanted to appreciate that, it was empty, it was meaningless, and he felt awful for having this in front of Dean. Dean, who he didn’t want to plague with his own problems… It was his alone to bear, wasn’t it?

“I wish I could make this stop for you, Cas,” Dean whispered. 

Castiel couldn't reply out loud, although the way his hands squeezed back at Dean did the talking for him. 

Eventually it died away of its own accord. Cas remembered vaguely that typically such attacks could only sustain themselves at that level of intensity for about 45 minutes. It might have been “just” 45 minutes, but it felt like the longest 45 minutes of his life, hands down, with every second a year and every minute another eternity.

The blinding adrenaline seeped away, leaving him weak and thirsty and nauseous. He was leaning against Dean’s shoulder weakly, just hanging there, while a wave of pain descended on him. Its pungency and potency stung his thoughts, the sharp edge of panic delving into an equally awful, yet more permeating agony. 

His eyes rebelled and his face grew hot. He pressed a hand to his eyes, cringing as he willed the wetness to stay safely out of view. It was for nothing, though. His breath grew ragged and little gulps appeared in the pattern of his inhalations. He curled in on himself, hoping Dean would leave. It had been bad enough Dean seeing that. 

This…this was even worse. 

“Go,” Cas muttered. 

“What? I can’t understand you. I’m sorry, baby,” Dean replied, an easy hand finding Cas’ shoulder as he stilled where he sat on the couch beside Dean. And still Dean held onto him while he shuddered through his sobs, which stole his breath until his chest hurt again,  
*  
“I never meant for you to see that,” Cas managed.

“See what?”

“Me. Lose my shit. Me…be…” Cas broke off, grimacing as he gestured angrily, disgust at himself raging through his mind and his features. 

“Be in pain?” Dean asked.

“Be…be pathetic,” Cas said, finding the word, which he uttered with derision.

“You’re not pathetic,” Dean shook his head, hurt crossing his face.

“I-“ Cas began, his voice clipped as it caught in his throat. “I can’t believe I did that to you.”

“You didn’t do anything to me. I want to be here, Cas. I…I don’t want you to hurt like this.” 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re OK with this, Dean,” Cas said, disgust in his voice. Anger, humiliation flooded him—he’d thought this was under better control, he’d thought he was past these—and then one hit, worse than ever. Why should Dean have to put up with it? Why was Dean pitying him over this? He’d half expected Dean to freak out or call 911 or…something. He’d mentioned vaguely at some point that he’d had these, but he—oh so stupidly, he could see now--hadn’t expected one to happen now, like this. And he hadn’t expected Dean to react this way.

“I’m not OK with you getting bad off, Cas,” Dean replied slowly, “But what, do you think that means I’m gonna leave?”

“You’re really OK with that?” Cas finally managed after several moments of open-mouthed shock. 

“Not with you hurting, no. But…it’s not your fault. I mean, I get I can be an asshat sometimes, but how mean do you think I am, man? Anybody could see that you can’t help it when you get like that.”

“Most people wouldn't put up with this shit,” Cas blurted what he’d been thinking.

Dean made a little pained sound of air escaping him like someone had punched him in the solar plexus. “I’m not leaving you coz of that, Cas. I don’t want to leave you at all.” 

“You don’t…” Cas echoed slowly, as if realizing it for the first time. Maybe he was. Dean had acted unfazed by Cas’ disclosure of the whole sordid matter weeks ago, but that was another matter entirely from being privy to a severe panic episode. 

“No, I don’t. I just want to know how to help,” Dean said, his hand on Cas’ shoulder again. 

Castiel paused a moment, internal debate eating at him. He could shrug away—his embarrassment and pride insisted that was what to do—but another part of him wanted desperately to lean in. So he gave way, sighing quietly as he resigned himself to the strange and terrifying vulnerability of letting Dean touch and reassure him now. He felt like he deserved something far less comforting, something harsh instead of gentle, but there was no bite to Dean’s touch. Dean’s other hand climbed to find his jaw, lightly tracing a line on his cheek. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s OK. It’s part of you, I care about you. It’s just part of the package.”


	2. Watch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separate oneshot from a similar alternate universe--in which 17 or 18 year old Dean faces a heavily drunk John who is confronting him over rumors of him being in a relationship with another guy, and his supposed lack of dedication to Sam, questioning his loyalties, until it devolves, leaving Dean with a choice he's never made until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic deals with emotional and physical abuse and John's rejection of Dean. Please bear this in mind when deciding to read.

"So what have you been doing you no-good piece of shit?' John slurred, the omnipresent whiskey on his breath particularly heavy for this time in the afternoon. 

"You have no fucking idea what I've been doing," Dean replied, anger cold in his voice as defensive as John was aggressive.

"Really? What do you think you're doing, you idiot? I heard from folks up around town you're seeing some boy! I raised you better than that, you piece of shit. Are you fucking another man? As if that wasn't disgusting enough, you've been neglecting Sammy--"

"I'm not neglecting any-fucking-body," Dean snapped. "I am standing behind the one damn person who gives a shit about me in my life!"

"You chose some random ass punk kid over your own brother! I gave you one damn job, you lousy bastard--"

"He's not some punk ass kid! Watch your mouth--dad--I don't--"

"You don't what?! Now shut up and get your ass up those stairs before--"

"Before what? Huh? You tell me this. Why should I give a damn what you say when all you've done is spew shit for the past 10 years? Maybe I've found somebody else who needs me. Who listens to me, since you never gave a fuck. Huh? Sam is fine. I'd never do anything without thinking of Sammy first so how dare you accuse me of failing the job you should've always done? Huh?"

"Who are you choosing over family? That punk ass kid? Who is he to you, huh? Over Sammy?"

"I didn't choose Cas over Sammy! He chose me! OK? I choose him, and I will get out of your sorry-ass house and never come back if that's what you want, you miserable bastard! The both of us! I'm done! There's somebody else who needs me like you never did. you can clean up your own fucking messes. I'm done!"

"Leave? Like you have anywhere to go? Why would anybody want a lazy rat like you?"

"Cas does. You don't get it, and you never will. I have somebody I have something with that you've never fucking known and never will, you miserable bastard. I'm taking Sammy. You just try to stop me."

“Walk out that door with your brother and I will kill your sorry ass,” John said, throwing a punch towards Dean, who for the first time in his life, didn’t duck away, didn’t stand motionless to receive it. He caught it, snapping his grip on his father’s wrist violently to the side so that John groaned with rage, trying to snatch away, but Dean wrenched his hand so that the joints of his wrist were compressed, giving him leverage over the other man.

“No. I’m fucking done. Now you get to watch me walk away.” 

“You’re gonna leave this home and everything I provided for you to live with some goddamn fa—“

“No. I’m done listening to you. I am fucking done, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to change that. So kill me if you want to. But think real hard because you don’t know how to keep yourself or Sammy fed without me. If you care about Sammy you will watch us walk away, you got that?” 

“Fine. If you’re gonna do that, I hope you know the path you’re going down, son. You’re on the road to hell, and—“

“No. I’m on the road out of your hell. I know exactly where I’m going and you get to lie in your own filth while I leave.” 

"Sam!" Dean yelled, summoning his pale-faced brother whose wide green eyes spelled panic. 

"Come on. Down the stairs, grab your jacket, leave everything else." Dean said, still staring John down, the danger in his gaze daring John to do something. But the man just retreated to the refrigerator, grabbing another bottle. 

"I guess someday I'll see your sorry ass in hell, and I'll say I told you so," John mumbled as Dean stalked off with Sam in tow.

 

With John's statement sitting dully in his ears, Dean slammed the front door, stalking out to the car. On the ride across town, Dean explained again what had happened.

*  
It had been rash, it had been haphazard, and it had been stupid not to have more carefully planned, but... as he stared up at the ceiling that night while Cas lay curled beside him, Sam on the other side of the wall in the guest room, Dean knew he'd made the right choice. 

Here, they were safe. Here, there was a chance to have what they'd never had under John's roof. Here, maybe they could even have peace.


End file.
